


He loves me, He loves me not

by XCuteAsHale



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of knotting, Mentions of m-preg, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCuteAsHale/pseuds/XCuteAsHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: “I couldn’t make you fall in love with me.  I thought I could do it, I really did, but… But I know you… And this isn’t love.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	He loves me, He loves me not

**Author's Note:**

> My lovely Dena gave me a prompt, and it ended with this! It's not beta'd, considering that Dena herself is my usual beta, and I didn't wanna spoil the surprise for her. So here it is, love. I hope you enjoy it.

The marriage had been one of convenience, the alliance between the wolves and the elite human families of Beacon Hills. The sacrificial lambs had been chosen by chance, one from the wolves’ and one from the humans, every member of society over the age of 16 had been expected to attend, given that they weren’t already confined by matrimony, of course. Or, that was how it was supposed to be done in theory, though everyone knew that it wouldn’t be so, that they would chose the highest elite, the ones with the most money and power. No one expected a scrawny 16 year old omega to be chosen, a second generation polish immigrant at that, from a working family. No one expected said omega to be paired up with Peter Hale, second in command of the Hale pack, the most prominent family from the wolves side. But somehow, Stiles _had_ been chosen, despite being assured that odds were against him, despite being assured that they would choose someone older, someone from a higher ranking family, someone - someone _not_ him.

 

The wedding had been extravagant, hundreds of people pressed into the church to see the uniting of the two worlds, flowers at every corner - white roses for purity, casablanca’s for celebration, even orange blossoms for fertility. Stiles had been walked up the aisle by his father, a feat he’d fought for with claws and teeth, wearing the traditional white robe. The hood had been drawn over his head, shielding him from view, and in turn blinding him completely. He had a death grip on his father’s hand the entire walk - and when they reached the aisle he couldn’t help the small whimper escaping, praying that no one would hear it. As soon as Peter Hale had removed his hood, Stiles’ memory started slipping, the ceremony seeming to rush by. It was like he had been standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the abyss, listening to everyone calling for him to jump - but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to, but he did.

 

The first year they had circled around each other, like they were expecting for the other to yield, to show weakness ready to be exploited. The only time they seemed to find peace with each other was during Stiles’ heats or Peter’s rut. Only then would they come together, soft touches and murmured words of praise, a quiet that almost gave Stiles’ hope - that perhaps, perhaps they would find that peace in every moment.

 

And he tried, oh, how he tried, to find that bond with Peter. The one he’d witnessed between his parents, the admiration and fondness between two people. It was all he wanted. He tried making all of Peter’s favorite meals, tried making friends with his family, tried being the perfect omega. But that wasn’t him. He wasn’t quiet or submissive, he couldn’t sit still for hours on end, simply functioning as another decoration. He was brash and filled with energy, he had questions and opinions - he wasn’t what any alpha would want in their partner.

 

The second year he was so close to just giving up. To just acknowledge what everyone else seemed to understand but him, that there was no way that Peter would ever gain those feelings for him. That he would never look at him like anything else but an inconvenience, a room mate at best, or even just a warm hole to hold his knot.

 

By the third year he had given up.

 

By the fourth he had accepted it. He’d accepted that he’d never be one of those who was adored and loved by their mates. He’d learned to cherish his heaths and the moments of sweetness that came with them, he’d learned to find some resemblance of happiness in the small things, like sharing a meal or waking up before his mate, lying there in the quiet, looking at the peace on his face. Peter never seemed at peace when he was awake, there was always some form of tension lining his body, the few smiles he’d give would always seem forced. In the beginning Stiles had thought it would be better, that Peter’s wolf would learn to recognize him as a mate and settle. But when it hadn’t happened, he’d figured that they just weren’t meant to be - it had been known to happen, that a wolf wouldn’t recognise a human, that they’d always be on edge.

 

...

 

It all came crashing down four years and seven months into their marriage. Stiles had had his heat two months earlier, and whilst he normally would still be basking in the tenderness left from it, he had woken up one morning with an itch under his skin. A trip to the doctor had left him feeling sick to his stomach, the itch evolving into fiery panic in his veins. That’s when it all came crashing down. He found Peter in his office, walking in without knocking. Peter just looked at him with that cool gaze, as if Stiles wasn’t anything more than a strange, as if Stiles wasn’t his husband.

 

He took a deep breath.

 

“Peter, we need to talk.”

 

“Do we now?” There it was. The typical reply, the raised brow and sarcastic tone. As if he was speaking to a child.

 

“I can’t do this anymore, Peter.” His breaths were coming faster now, hands shaking at his side.

 

“Do what exactly?” Peter asked, slowly standing from his chair and making his way towards him, his body language screaming predator.

 

“I couldn’t make you fall in love with me. I thought I could do it, I really did, but,” Tears were gathering in his eyes now, and Stiles prayed that they wouldn’t fall, “But I know you.. And this isn’t love.”

 

“And what, pray tell, made you come to this conclusion?” Peter stopped in front of him, almost looming over him, despite only having an inch on him.

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

It was like everything stopped as soon as the words slipped by his lips. They both stood there, frozen, looking at each other. The tears were slipping down his cheeks freely now, and it was like it had just gone up for him. He was pregnant. He was pregnant, and his husband didn’t love him. How could a child grow up in a home like that? How could they bring a child, an innocent human being, into a home where their parents would be indifferent towards each other at best, cold at worst? How could-

 

He was ripped from his inner panic when he felt Peter’s hands coming up to hold his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears.

 

“How on earth did you come to the conclusion that I don’t love you?” Peter asked.

 

“Do you even need to ask?”

 

“I am asking, aren’t I?”

 

“You never touch me outside of my heats, or your rut. You don’t smile, or even as much as talk to me unless you absolutely have to! I don’t - I don’t - I don’t know how else to make it clear, but you surely have!”

 

“Stiles, I - I do love you.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, Peter. Just because I’m pregnant it doesn’t mean that I need your pity.”

 

“Let’s elope.”

 

“What.”

 

“I’m serious!” Peter walked back towards the desk now, looking through papers, reaching for his computer.

 

“Peter, we’re already married.”

 

“No, well, yes, but we didn’t marry for us. We married for them.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Let’s elope. Let’s start a new life, somewhere far away from here, away from the pack, away from this,” Peter was looking at him like a madman, eyes glowing with excitement, “Let’s go somewhere no one knows who we are. Let’s start fresh.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying. I think the news about the baby damaged your brain or something.”

 

“Stiles. Will you marry me?”

 

“You’re serious?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yes, Peter Hale, I will marry you. Again.”

 

…

 

Four years and eight months into their marriage, Peter and Stiles married again, in a small church in Tarnów, Poland. Four years and eight months into their marriage they bought a small house only walking distance from where Stiles’ father lived, and a small drive from where his grandparents lived. Four years and eight months into their marriage, Peter and Stiles discovered the love they had for each other, the love they had both kept hidden in fear of rejection. Four years and eight months into their marriage Stiles started working on the small patch of land they had, making it into a beautiful garden. Four years and eight months into their marriage Stiles discovered that Peter spoke polish fluently, that he’d taken classes throughout their marriage.

 

Five years and four months into their marriage Stiles gave birth to a healthy baby girl.

 

Five years and four months into their marriage Peter cried, though he would never admit it to a living soul.

  
Five years and four months into their marriage Stiles said “I love you” for the first time, and Peter said it back.


End file.
